


Enemies? What Can I Say, He's A Hufflepuff

by RachaelHolmes



Category: johnlock - Fandom
Genre: AU, Hogwarts AU, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock's just a bit of a dick, Trying to make a friend, sort of enemies, when is he not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 17:18:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10417146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RachaelHolmes/pseuds/RachaelHolmes
Summary: John Watson saved Sherlock Holmes, but Holmes never got to thank him. Now they're in a library together, and Sherlock is thinking up ways to start the conversation again after three years.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you are having a fabulous day, or hope you will have one if it's the morning! Enjoy x

"Can I sit here?" The question broke Sherlock's train of thought, something he did not enjoy, nor encourage. His head snapped up and he saw some bloody Hufflepuff, John Watson was his name is, standing awkwardly beside his table.  
"No." he said coldly, moving his bag further onto the seat next to him to further discourage John trying to sit down. John sat down any way. "What are you doing?" Sherlock asked angrily as the bag was dumped on his feet. He didn't want to be disturbed, especially not by good-looking Hufflepuff's. John just sighed and gestured his arm.  
"There's nowhere else to sit."  
Sherlock scoffed, but then looked around. Their certainly _was_ nowhere else to sit, the library was packed full of students revising and doing their homework.  
"Oh" was all he said before moving his stuff a little to give John some room. The smaller man immediately looked surprise at the easy acceptation, and Sherlock decided he'd have to be extra horrible to some first years later on. John got his work out of his bag and begun scribbling down notes furiously; Sherlock tried desperately to do the same, even though he knew it was useless. His interest had somehow been peaked.  
An hour later John groaned and flopped his head on the desk. "I need to go and find a book." he told Sherlock. "Don't nick my stuff." Sherlock grunted and replied "Why would I ever want to touch your _stuff_?" John just sighed.  
"No reason." he replied and left. Sherlock really wanted to go through his stuff, but seeing as John would be back any minute he didn't think that would be such a great idea. He stretched and looked around. The library was less packed than it had been earlier, presumably because the sky had brightened up, meaning it was a lovely day outside. Sherlock hoped John wouldn't leave to go outside with his mates, or worse, move to a now empty table on the other side of the library. If he did that, Sherlock wouldn't be able to help but stare at him, and that probably wasn't a good idea. Thinking about the Hufflepuff, Sherlock's eyes followed him as he walked slowly along a bookshelf, looking for something. John looked up and blushed when he saw Sherlock's gaze on him, both boys dropping their heads as soon as they saw the other. Sherlock tried to ignore the feeling of embarrassment inside, and was extremely glad that John chose not to talk about it as well.  
A little while later and Sherlock had finished everything he'd come to do, but he didn't want to move. He was having some trouble with his feelings. He knew he didn’t have to _hate_ John Watson, Slytherin's and Hufflepuff's had nowhere near the same rivalry as they did with Gryffindor's, but it was just a general rule about him. Sherlock Holmes didn't have friends. He had Mycroft if he wanted, but he didn't have _friends_. And that had been fine, he'd always been too arrogant and observing for people to like him anyway, so he just didn't try on that front. But now he _wanted_ to try, and all because of one bloody Hufflepuff. Sherlock sighed and looked over at the man who had started all this trouble by sitting next to him. Sherlock would never admit to anyone that John Watson was the one and only person that had ever made him want to stop being a Slytherin. The only one that had ever made Sherlock want to just aimlessly talk about things that had no relevance to anything, but were just there because talking was _fun_. **Not** a word Sherlock used lightly.  
"Watson." Sherlock said, causing the ither boy's head to snap up. "I'm uh... having some trouble." Sherlock snorted at himself, and his pitiful attempt at talking to the boy next to him.  
"Oh?" John asked, looking extremely confused that anyone was talking to him, let alone the most mysterious boy of Slytherin that was meant to hate him. Even the Slytherin Prince - Zargo Malfoy - didn't dared make fun of Sherlock Holmes.  
"Yes, quite. Look, I was wondering if you might be able to explain this question to me." SHerlock proposed, already thinking up a simple little question he'd be able to ask John.  
"Uhm, sure. What is it?"  
"Do you know the foundation of the modernisation of Grimlock?" Sherlock asked, thinking John would be able to answer it quite easily.  
"Well, no? Do you?" Sherlock was quite taken aback at John's stupidity. He really hadn't expected that from a sensible man like John Watson.  
"No, I don't know John. That's why I asked _you_."  
"Oh, right... sorry."  
"Yes, well... maybe next time." Sherlock offered. John just nodded, a bright tinge to his cheeks, and went back to his work.

Sherlock had never been impressed with John Watson. That is, right up until Year Four. That's when his interest had started.Before,  John Watson had just been another mindless idiot wandering the hallways to Sherlock, never one to pay attention to. There was just nothing interesting about him. But then... _it_ had happened. After a particularly harrowing Christmas at the Holmes', Sherlock had been disturbed, not to mention _affected_. He lost focus on his studies, started smoking, and even looked into a bit of voodoo and satanic magic, which is dangerous enough to search, let alone practice. John Watson had found him one morning, passed out, half naked, and covered in blood in the boys toilets by the Astronomy Tower. He'd healed Sherlock, in more then just the mental way, and helped him get focused back onto his schoolwork - all they'd had was one 6am conversation, and Sherlock could never stop paying attention to John. John Watson had saved him, and he'd never even gotten to say thank you.  
 


End file.
